Sakura and Candle Flame
by Demented Inu
Summary: What happens when the Count meets one of his "extinguished" face to face? Count/Tsuzuki.


It's a lonely world, and the Count is reminded of this every time he parts the curtains and sees the cherry blossoms drifting down from immortal trees. He could swear that he saw the same blossoms only yesterday, or the day before; perpetual springtime, but a part of him knows that it's only an illusion taken from the memory of the Earth, no different than the hallucinations created in the Hall of Candles.

Nothing but a prison, locked gates preventing him from wandering too far away from his mansion, and he gets so tired of looking at his weary reflection in the window's glass. So now he can't see himself, a half-mask making sure to cover and conceal his need to escape.

He doesn't mind not being able to see himself. He loves his mask, which keeps his face invisible, hides all of the expression and the pain and the desire, and as long as he has his mask, he's sure that he won't go mad in this place.

He could if he wanted to, go mad. Hades knows that watching these candles burn down to nothing every single day is enough to drive anybody to madness. He spends most of his time looking at the candle flames die. It's his duty to memorize every name that the candles stand for, every family, every occupation, and every day, he can't help but watch as another human's life is burned away.

It's a lonely world, and the Count knows it, but he makes do, somehow.

***

It's not exceptionally cold today.

The Count can't help but shiver anyway as three of his candles suddenly go out at once, in a wisp of smoke. He goes to remove them from their places, like he's supposed to do, and he doesn't complain because he's numb to the sensation now. He no longer visualizes what these people must have looked like, what their children will do now, what the parents must be thinking.

He could have extended their lives, if he'd wished, but it doesn't really matter in the end. Everyone dies, and their time had come.

He sighs, and it catches in the air. He's far too used to sighing, to allowing his sadness out in a single breath. Watson tells him that he should make some friends, maybe invite some of the nice men from JuOhCho to tea, but the Count knows that 1926 is a busy year for them. The Count would be busy too, if he could actually do something about the lives that these extinguished candles represent.

He wants to help these people move on, help them find peace where he himself had only candles, only Sakura blossoms.

There's one candle in particular that always manages to catch his eye. It's not exceptionally bigger than the others that surround it, nor hotter, nor brighter, but it is the Count's favorite of the thousands in his Hall. He loves it solely because it's indecisive like he is; it flickers until it dies only to return moments later, blazing enthusiastically as if it had missed its waxy tower.

The Count watches it, relying on it to return and greet him with a kind of warmth one can only get from fire.

The candle seems to love him, the flame dancing in response to the way his glove shows his affections. He can't help but smile at the little thing, sometimes, because it's proof that not everybody has to die solely because it was deemed inevitable.

This flame wants to live; isn't that why it keeps burning again?

In late January, no doubt due to the chill of the air, the flame dies again. The Count urges it to spring back into life like it normally struggles so to do, to burn once again, but the fire doesn't return. This time, the candle is nothing special, only a cylinder of dripping wax and a used and useless wick.

***

Late January, 1926.

A new Shinigami, Konoe said, had arrived in JuOhCho.

The Count immediately knows that it must be the candle flame he'd watched, and when asking for details, Konoe says the new guy is the shy type, doesn't talk much about himself, but has great potential in regards to Shikigami. According to the ministry, he's freakishly powerful with fuda, deeply secretive, and has a love for chocolate.

"He was a little strange when he woke up, but who isn't right after they die?" Konoe sips his tea, a special blend that Watson had created for the occasion, and sits back in his chair.

"Strange?" the Count asks, captivated. "How so?"

Konoe looks away for a moment and then replies, "He kept asking for his watch… and touching his wrist. He didn't seem to care that he was dead, only that he didn't have his watch on and that his sister wasn't in the room."

It's only a day later when the Shinigami partners up, and is brought to the Hall to be introduced to the Count. The Count realizes how difficult is must be to be deceased when he had wanted so much to live, and the Count makes sure to look his best for the visitation.

When the Shinigami show up at his Hall, the Count forgets to even greet the one he recognizes, captivated by the man who had woken up dead a day earlier.

The man looks scared, almost timid, and his hair is artfully messy. There are cherry blossoms caught up in the swirl of brown, and his eyes… the Count has to do a double-take with the eyes. Eyes the color of irises, of amethyst, a deep, deep violet that he certainly hasn't seen in any other eyes before. He forgets to breathe for a moment, but somehow remembers his manners, and introduces himself politely.

The man smiles – the Count realizes how beautiful that is, too – and holds out his hand.

"Asato Tsuzuki," he says, and the Count knows now who the man is… Not a man of hope, as once thought, but a man built of despair. A watch to hide the scars. He admits that it's clever, people will only think he's left-handed, and he takes the offered hand, squeezing gentle.

Tsuzuki's eyes waver for a moment, and then he puts his hands in his pockets.

"I hope that we can be friends," he whispers, and the Count can hear the sadness behind it.

And he realizes what he's been desiring this entire time.

***

It's difficult for him to leave the Hall of Candles. After all, it is his duty to make sure the candles don't go unsupervised, and he's not one to neglect his duty.

It's lonely. He admits to it freely. With only Sakura blossoms and candle flame for company, he's ready to go mad, but somehow Tsuzuki's smile and those bright, bright eyes are enough to keep him sane.


End file.
